


On the Way Home

by brilliantdreams



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Erik is a Father, Erik is a Sweetheart, Kid Fic, M/M, Protective Erik, dadneto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 08:56:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11574720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brilliantdreams/pseuds/brilliantdreams
Summary: Erik and his daughter Lorna are heading home on the very crowded evening train and the man in front of Erik has absolutely no balance.





	On the Way Home

The train is absolutely packed but by some blessing, Erik has managed to nab a seat amongst the early evening chaos. He didn't even have to give anyone a pointed look or purposefully joggle Lorna in the front carrier; it was just there, someone getting off right as he got on. So Erik gets to sit with his daughter snug against his chest, safe and sound. But the carriage is still swarmed with people. It's hot and sticky and Erik can feel Lorna starting to fidget and grumble against him. Their stop is still a little while off too. 

This is what you get when you're so particular about kindergartens, Erik laments. But it’s worth it for the mutant friendly policies the place employs. Kids are manifesting earlier and earlier these days, and if Lorna manifests, Erik wants to know she's settled somewhere with people who understand and celebrate their kind. 

He could really do without the legs of the person in front of him bumping his knees every five seconds though. 

Lifting his disgruntled gaze, he finds a man hanging off the overhead hand rings, eyes closed under the soft flop of his curly hair. He doesn't seem to notice at all that he's knocking the knees of a man with a child every time the train gives a jolt; his mouth is set and brow tight, deep in thought. To be fair, it’s probably not his fault. Over the man's shoulder, Erik can see where another passenger is pressed back to back with the man, their bodies plastered uncomfortably close. Erik grumbles anyway, smoothing Lorna's fluffy green locks back from her soft face. She cooes and Erik lets himself smile at her which the child returns in kind.

The train gives another hard jolt and Erik looks up just in time to see the man in front of him pitch forward. Both his hands slam into the glass window behind Erik’s head and his chin very nearly bashes Erik in the forehead as he falls forward. Erik’s solid arm that he’s automatically shielded Lorna’s head with catches the man hard in the sternum, making him choke a cough into Erik’s hair. Erik shoves him upright none too gently, and opens his mouth to basically scream, but the man interrupts him before he can.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so terribly sorry!” he gushes in a polished British accent, pushing back against the people behind him to try and give Erik some more space. “Is your little girl alright? Honestly, I don’t usually take the train at all; I can’t believe how busy it is!” The man looks rather upset, bright blue eyes distressed, and under a pink flush of exertion he’s pale, a smattering of golden freckles growing stark on his nose and cheeks. He’s not looking very well at all so Erik mumbles “it's fine, she’s alright” but frowns up darkly just for good measure. The other man swallows thickly when he nods his thanks, then grimaces as the people behind him push and shove.

Erik looks back to Lorna. Not his problem. He just wants to get home and get this little trooper to bed.  He thinks perhaps tomorrow he might drive. His car in a traffic jam is at least more spacious and Lorna can sleep in her car seat.

The next time the train lurches, the man’s knees crash painfully into Erik’s as the person behind him falls into him. His hands come up again, slamming against the window hard enough that Erik feels it ring in the metal frame. His legs have buckled so much that Erik has to jerk himself back in his seat as far as he can so that the man doesn’t crush Lorna. He’s face to face with startled eyes and the apology that spills out of the man this time—“I really am _ so _ awfully sorry about this. Won’t happen again, I promise!” is a tangible thing that Erik feels ghosting over his own lips.

Begrudgingly, Erik helps the man up with a hand pressed against his chest, and as he does so, he can feel how shallow and short the other’s breath is. He notes the white knuckles that he resumes his tight grip on the handles with and measures the man, holding him whole in his gaze for a moment. His slight frame is immediately hustled and bustled by the larger, heavier people around him as soon as he’s straightened up, and he’s now maintaining an embarrassed pink flush while still managing to look rather green around the gills. Motion sickness maybe.

“This is ridiculous,” growls Erik gruffly. 

“W-What was that, sorry?” The buzz of people on the train has stopped Erik’s words short of reaching the other man. Instead of repeating himself, Erik shoves up from his seat. There’s no way this guy can stay on his feet, despite his profuse reassurance that it won’t happen again.

“Sit down,” he says to the man who tries to take a step back as Erik and his baby carrier move into the tiny space he’s occupying. But there’s nowhere to go and he starts to wobble off balance again. Erik takes hold of his arm firmly, lowering his chin to speak to him directly. The other man is not only slight, but is almost a whole head shorter than Erik. He has to lift his own chin to not only look up at the man he’s speaking to, but to move his mouth out of Lorna’s wayward curls. 

“Pardon?” he says softly, expression surprised and eyes bright. 

“Just sit down,” Erik tells him impatiently. He takes the man by both arms and manoeuvres so that they have swapped positions. Erik roughly pushes people aside to make the room. When the smaller man is in place, Erik shoves him down by the shoulders and then sighs. 

“Sit. I’ve got good balance.” As he speaks, he reaches out and takes hold of the metal carriage with his mutation, rooting him to the spot. The people around him don’t shove him nearly as much as they did the other man. Erik is tall and broad and holding a child.  

“Thank you,” the man calls up to him, watching Erik with palpable relief in his face. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am. I’m Charles, by the way.”

“Erik.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Erik.”

_ ‘I’m sure it is. I’ve just given you my seat’  _ is the first thing that pops into Erik’s mind, but he supposes he could have ended up giving it to someone far less apologetic than this ‘Charles’. So he settles for a nod and a brusque “likewise.” 

“I can hold her, if you like,” Charles’ fancy accent offers, and Erik almost falls over. The idea of handing his daughter over to a total stranger is disorientating. 

A rude “absolutely  _ not _ ” rolls out of his mouth before he has time to remember to be polite. But when he instinctively looks down at Lorna, he can see how tired she looks. Her eyes are huge and glassy; the icy blue, so like Erik’s own, looking unusually bright.  She’s switching between rubbing at them, and whipping her head around at all the people. She's overwhelmed and the passengers next to Erik are far too close for comfort, their shoulder bags and filthy sleeves unnervingly close to Lorna’s face.  

“She must be getting heavy, and I’ve made you give up your seat. I’m really very good with children, I promise. She’ll still be right here in front of you.” 

Charles opens his hands and Erik, painfully reluctant, heaves Lorna out of the carrier and lowers her slowly into the other man's arms. 

“Careful!” He barks as Charles turns Lorna gently and arranges her front first into the plush knit of his cardigan. He chuckles at Erik’s overprotectiveness before rubbing Lorna’s back affectionately. Erik feels a stab of something—jealousy? when Lorna snugs her face into Charles with a happy burble. Erik holds the empty baby carrier to him and feels like he’s given Charles an arm.

“Oh, she’s just darling,” says Charles, cuddling Lorna close, gaze lowered fondly. “What’s her name?”

“Lorna.” 

“Lorna,” Charles repeats. “You’re just the sweetest, aren’t you, Lorna? And your daddy is very kind isn’t he, giving me his seat. Even though I’m sure he’s had a very long day.” Charles chances a bashful, apologetic look up at Erik through his long eyelashes and Erik finds himself quirking his mouth amusedly with an exasperated huff. At least the man is grateful. 

Charles lifts his face to smile properly at Erik and then blinks back to Lorna.

“Oh, Lorna you are so lovely. You love your daddy very much, don’t you, yes you do!” 

Erik rolls his eyes at the baby talk and obvious flattery. 

“And how would you know that?” he quips, letting himself hang a little lower on the hand rings so he can talk. He’s bigger than Charles, so what this achieves seems somewhat imposing, caging Charles in, but the other man doesn’t seem to mind. He looks up again and considers Erik. 

“Well,” he says slowly. “I’m a telepath.” 

At this, Erik immediately feels the situation lighten. It’s probably not good; how biased he feels towards other mutants. But he can’t help it. Suddenly Lorna looks a lot safer in Charles’ arms. 

“You can read her mind?” Erik is initially curious but then as he realises the reality of what he’s asking, something heavy drops into his stomach. “Are you reading my mind?” 

The look on Charles face is pained and he looks ill again.

“No, no, I never intentionally read minds.” Erik narrows his eyes.

“But you are reading hers?” 

Charles pulls his bottom lip in and worries it with his teeth. 

“It’s difficult to explain,” he begins. “ I never try and read minds without permission unless absolutely necessary. But I do pick things up from people, just feelings or moods really, without trying. I can’t really help it and most people don’t know how to keep their thoughts to themselves, so to speak.”

Erik nods and lets out a breath. Charles looks like he’s started breathing again too.

That makes sense, Erik thinks. He’s sure most people on this train, certainly most humans, would never even consider the possibility that there might be someone in their midst who would be sensitive to their thoughts. And Erik himself knows that some mutations you can’t ever just ‘turn off’ completely. He’s constantly aware of the metal around him. It takes more effort to reign in his mutation than it does to just let it be. Right now, he’s pulled it in close (save for what he’s using to keep his balance) because the onslaught of coins and jewellery makes him edgy when there are so many people together like this. But he imagines it’s more difficult with something like telepathy.

“Lorna doesn’t keep her thoughts to herself,” Erik concludes, watching his daughter shut her eyes and press her cheek into Charles’ soft warmth. Charles smiles at the child and lays a hand over the back of her head, covering the girl’s ear.

“Of course she doesn’t, she’s tiny. She’s not capable of it yet.” 

“Oh?” Erik prompts. Charles looks pleased and Erik wonders vaguely how often he gets to talk openly about his mutation. He wonders how often people react like Erik did and don’t give Charles time to explain.

“Well, she doesn’t have actual thoughts since she’s so young, so even if I try to read her mind, all I get are imprints and floaty shapes. But I can _ feel _ you there, even when I’m not trying to. She projects you the loudest.”

“What’s it like?” Erik breathes. His air has caught in his chest because honestly, he sometimes wonders if he’s doing a good enough job on his own. Maybe Charles can feel it too because the way he’s looking at Erik is so soft.

“It’s warm and constant,” he tells him. “There’s also rather loud feelings of her being too hot or hungry, but you’re always mixed into those too since you’re the one who cares for her and tends to her. She’s always seeking you out. She already has a sense that if something is upsetting or wrong, you’ll be there to fix it.”

The train rattles into a station and the person next to Charles gets up. Erik whips into the seat as Charles says, “she feels safe”, and he’s glad he did so because he suddenly feels weak with loving Lorna so much.

Charles helps Erik put Lorna back into the front carrier now that he’s seated again. With a small smile at the telepath, Erik lets himself pull the straps tight with his mutation. Charles’s eyes widen in understanding.

“Your happiness feels nice,” Charles says, giving Lorna’s fluffy hair a final stroke and still eyeing Erik making little adjustments to the carrier while they talk.

“You can feel it?” Erik asks, equal parts embarrassed and fascinated.

Charles grins at him. 

“Yes, you’re projecting.”

“Sorry.” Erik apologises, but Charles just laughs.

“It’s quite alright, Erik. It’s a welcome change from the terrible mood of the rest of the train.” 

“So that’s why you look so ill?” Erik gestures to Charles’ still pale complexion while Lorna gives a big yawn. Charles lifts one hand to rub his face and chuckles wearily.

“Yes, I’m afraid the train really isn’t for me. You and Lorna are helping though. It’s good to get out of my head, or sometimes into someone else’s, when it gets like this.” 

“You ought to drive,” Erik says dryly, looking out at the looming sea of passengers with blatant distaste. Without thinking, he presses himself thigh to thigh with the other man. Charles is warm and soft against him. And with him turned into Erik’s side, shied away from the rest of the carriage, he can smell the other man’s aftershave and shampoo. Erik is almost sorry that his stop is coming up, it’s not often he takes the time to notice other people like this, but does his best to bury that thought.

“I do usually drive,” Charles is saying. “Well, I taxi. But I forgot my wallet so I had to take the train.”

“How far is your stop?” Erik asks, shoving away  _ ‘you taxi?!’. _

“Further than the train will take me. I’m not sure what I’ll do,” Charles replies forlornly. 

Humming sympathetically, Erik lifts his eyes to the ceiling thoughtfully. 

“Maybe you should get off with us. I can give you money for a taxi or you can use my phone to ring someone?” The suggestion is met with the telepath starting in surprise. 

“Oh no, I couldn’t do that!” Though as he protests, the train takes a sharp corner, and the person who is now standing where Erik and Charles had been, falls and collides violently with the window behind Charles’ head. Charles jumps out of his skin, shrinking away into his seat, and when the man uses his shoulder to push himself upright, Charles looks like he’s about to vomit. He’s sweating and Lorna has started to whimper in fright.

“Alright, come on, our stop is next,” Erik orders decisively, standing up. People do their best to back away when he makes himself bigger by wrapping an arm around the front of Lorna’s carrier. He uses the other arm to help Charles up and guide him to stand behind Erik. People will move for Erik and Lorna, and if they don’t Erik has plenty to yank them aside with. Charles starts to protest, but his complaints quickly die when people speed into their abandoned seats and the crowd starts to close around him again.

“I’d like to get off now, please.”

“Come on then.”

They start towards the door, Erik keeping himself upright on the moving train with the help of his mutation, Charles wobbling about a bit and ending up grabbing the back of Erik’s shirt to stay up. They’re at the door just as the train is slowing into the station. The heavy sigh that Charles lets out warms Erik’s shoulders through his shirt.

 

Out on the platform, Erik watches Charles take a few deep breaths with his eyes closed. There is some colour coming back to his cheeks and the lines of his figure seem to relax. Erik stands closely in front of him to keep other passengers away.

“Taxi or phone?” Erik asks.

“A taxi I think…” Charles replies, opening his very, very blue eyes. Erik stamps on his disappointment.

“But you must let me repay you,” the telepath continues hastily. “You’ve been so kind to me and money for a taxi is asking entirely too much of you, but I don’t have much choice...” Charles pauses for a moment, before touching his fingers to the back of Erik’s hand. “If you give me your phone number, we can arrange something? Dinner perhaps?”

Erik, a furious blush working up his neck and into his cheeks and ears, opens and closes his mouth stupidly. 

“Bring Lorna, of course,” Charles says, grinning at Erik’s stupor. Erik swoons. He hates leaving Lorna with babysitters. And if Charles’ lovely curls, blue eyes and charming demeanor hadn’t sold Erik, that would have. 

“That would be nice,” he says softly. 

“It’s a date then.”

Charles has the pen and Erik has the stray receipt. He jots down his number and Charles pockets it, their fingers brushing together when Erik hands it over. 

 

They part outside the station with Charles ducking gratefully into a taxi and then rolling his window down.

“I’ll call you later this evening,” he promises. The late sun is gold through his hair.

“Fine,” agrees Erik, smiling and soothing a grumbly Lorna.

“Bye, Erik.”

“Bye, Charles.”

The taxi pulls away and Erik watches it go until it’s lost in the traffic.

Then he walks the rest of way home humming.

 


End file.
